What You Mean to Me
by iepidemic
Summary: Your best friend has just passed away, and your boyfriend Brad has left you alone for the day but you end up making a horrible mistake. What happens when he comes home to discover it? Warning: self-harm triggers. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!


On days like this, you hated having the house to yourself.

Well, the dogs were there, but still. Brad had been out for the day doing some charity thing, something that you'd lost track of after the 10th one he actively participated in. Not that it was a bad thing, there was just… too much else on your mind.

It was just one of those depressing, cliché, days. Where your mind was in a dark place and fit perfectly with the rain pounding outside your window, one where not even the sight of your dogs staring innocently up at you could stop the tears from falling. In all fairness though, you did have a decent reason for being in such a horrible condition.

Your best girl friend, Carson, who was like a sister to you, had passed away just over a week ago after getting hit by a drunk driver. You feel as if you just haven't stopped crying even though you continued to insist to Brad and everyone else that you would be fine. But he'd been dating you for 5 years now, and always could tell that you weren't.

"It's just not fair," you whimpered through a sob to no one in particular. "I miss her so much, and she doesn't even know…" The sobs were inescapable now and you dug your face in the pillow on the couch you sat on. You knew you shouldn't have let Brad leave you alone. He asked over and over if you wanted him to stay, but you kept telling him that what he was doing was far more important.

"You will always be the most important thing in my life," he'd said as he kissed you. You could see in those dark brown eyes that he truly loved you, and wanted to take away all the hurt you constantly felt. He was such a good influence on your life and kept you from relapsing into your normal self-destructive tendencies… but he wasn't here now.

A slight tinge of relief washed over you at the mere thought of how you used to be. With shaky legs you made your way into the master bathroom, opening up the drawer under your half of the double sink. You took out a box of tampons and dug around inside until you found what you were looking for: your trusty razorblade.

_Think about how disappointed Brad would be in you, as well as Carson. You shouldn't do it._

But you ignored that small voice in the back of your head and locked the door, then sat down on the cold tile. Your hands were shaking as you pressed the sharp edge to your wrist, yet your mind was filled with the excitement of reuniting with an old habit of yours. The mental image of seeing Carson lying still in her casket flashed back to you, and you brought the blade deep across.

_You're such an idiot. A failure._

"I don't care anymore," you whispered to yourself. Blood started seeping out of your fresh wound, and you let it run, entranced by it. The sound of the front door opening and closing interrupted you, and immediately you chucked the metal object back in its hiding place and pressed a tissue to your cut. "Babe, are you home?" Brad hollered across the house, causing more panic to rise in your throat. "I'm here, just gimme a second!" you yelled back without as much as a tremble.

You ran the water to make it seem like you had a real purpose of being in the bathroom, then pulled the sleeves to the hoodie you were wearing down and wiped the tears off your cheeks. You stepped out and nearly ran into your boyfriend, startled by you. "There you are!" He was smiling, not even suspecting how badly you just messed up. "Hey, how did the thing go?" you asked.

"It was great, we raised a lot of money. How are you? Are you okay?" You stifled a sob and looked up at him. "Yeah, no I'm okay. Just a bit tired is all." Lying to him always made you feel horrible, but right now you probably deserved it. "If you say so. I missed you," he said, bringing you into a gentle kiss with his strong arms wrapped softly around your waist. "I missed you too." Your voice wavered, and he caught it.

"Are you sure you're okay? Is there something you want to talk about?" Brad kept you in his embrace and rocked side to side with you pressed against his chest, tears coming out of your eyes. Words weren't forming, so you shook your head no. "You can tell me anything, I promise you that. But I don't want to see you hurting."

"Then don't!" you snapped, pushing him away. You weren't even angry at him, more so at yourself. "Just leave me alone then to wallow in this sadness you think I'm in." A sympathetic smile fell on his lips and he took your hand, but you ripped it away. "No. Just leave me be." You shoved him away once more but this time he grabbed you by the arm and pushed up your sleeve, revealing the still bleeding injury on your wrist.

Brad's expression didn't change though. He didn't get angry; he didn't look upset at all. He just looked… sad. "How come you wouldn't say anything?" You looked down at your feet, as if the answer was going to be there. "H-how did you know?" you wondered, diverting away from what he asked you. "I know you, whether you like it or not. I know that lonely doesn't even begin to describe what you feel without your best friend, and I know that you pretend like you're okay. But as soon as you came out here when I got home, I knew. I'm only mad at the fact that you don't feel like you could tell me."

Once again, you found yourself crying on his shoulder like you had so many nights before. Without a word he led you into the bedroom and sat you down on the bed, and you quickly threw yourself into your pillow to hide your face. Brad lay down right behind you and draped a loving arm over the side of your body, his forehead pressed to the back of your head as he kissed your neck.

You'd finally stopped after nearly an hour of you crying your eyes out and him staying faithfully by you. You took a deep breath and turned around to face him. A small grin lit up his face and he licked your nose playfully. "I'll be right back, I know what'll help." He left for about a minute and came back holding a plate.

"Wh-what's that?" you sniffled, sitting up. "Toast," he answered with some sense of pride. Instantly you had to laugh, surprised that he still remembered the small story behind it. "How do you still know these things?" Brad set down the plate on the table beside you. "You're memorable, and worth it. Besides, not many people say on a first date that toast is what makes them happy," he chuckled. "Well it does! It's warm, and comforting. Just like you."

"Listen to me, please. I will always love you, no matter what your flaws are or how bad you're hurting. You're more important than any charity event, than the Colin and Brad show, anything. You make me love life like nobody else has ever been able to, and as corny as this sounds…

You're what makes me happy. You're my piece of toast."


End file.
